


Only In Memory

by rainydayadvocate



Category: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Budding Love, F/M, Flashbacks, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 18:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16728543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainydayadvocate/pseuds/rainydayadvocate
Summary: Han, Leia, Luke, and Chewie are on sent on a fuel supply run, and Han suspects the supplier is someone from his past, someone that probably belongs there.





	Only In Memory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [politicalmamaduck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/politicalmamaduck/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this! Since you mentioned that you also ship Han/Leia, I thought running into Qi'ra right before that relationship heats up would be a great place to start.

“Tell me something, Han,” Leia said from her perch in the bunk of the _Falcon_ lounge, her feet dangling over the booth. Han sat on the end, staring at the stagnated game he’d been playing against Luke. How was the kid always one step ahead of him? Han had no good moves at all.

He’d ignored Leia for too long, and her boot kicked his shoulder. “Ow! What?”

“Tell me something. Why do you think you can talk your way out of anything? I’ve known you for two years, and I’ve never seen you successfully talk your way out of a situation. You attempt to, but inevitably you have to shoot things.”

She kicked his shoulder again. In response, he swatted it away before looking up at her. “It works, doesn’t it?”

Leia laughed and eyed the ceiling. “It would save you a lot of trouble if you started by shooting.”

“Thanks for the tip, your highness. I’ll try that next time. I’ll have you know that sometimes I do actually talk my way out of sticky situations.” A wookie snicker came from somewhere near the cockpit. “No one asked you!” Han hollered to his copilot.

Leia hopped off the bunk and slid down next to Han, helping herself to Luke’s next move. It was the right move, dealing the game-ending blow to Han’s army of holographic monsters. She grinned at him, and Han sighed, slouching in his seat. “All right, flyboy. Tell me, when was the last time you successfully talked your way out of something?”

“It was—” Han paused. Technically, he’d talked his way out of trouble with Jabba, but given the bounty on his head, it wasn’t the greatest example. “How about this. I escaped from the White Worms on Corellia almost purely by negotiation.”

“Did you now?” Leia asked, her question dripping with challenge. “By all means, I can’t wait to hear this.”

“Well, good, because you’re about to hear it.” Han cleared his throat and fixed his gaze on the princess. “I was supposed to return with a supply of coaxium, but I didn’t get the full supply and hid the one vial I did get with my partner. Naturally, I got dragged before Lady Proxima and I gave her a very convincing reason for not having the coaxium.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“I did. That didn’t stop one of her men from pointing a blaster at me.”

“I’m so surprised.”

“But I did not fight back with a blaster. I continued to talk—and my partner intervened. While they were distracted, I threatened them with a thermal detonator.”

Leia laughed. “You didn’t, did you?”

“Well, it might’ve been a rock.”

“That’s better.”

“And I used it to break a hole in the ceiling, which let in the sunlight and blistered Lady Proxima’s skin.” Han paused, sitting up straighter, clearly proud of his exploits.

Leia just stared at him. “So you fought your way out again?”

“No! It was my charm and wit that got me out, clearly.”

“Uh huh. And were you chased after you broke the ceiling?”

That speeder chase, Coronet’s spaceport, those moments before he joined the Imperial Academy, they were permanently etched in his mind. Qi’ra should have been with him. They were supposed to escape into the unknown galaxy together. They hadn’t, and it wasn’t a fixable mistake.

Luke appeared from the cockpit. “We’re about to drop out of hyperspace above Tatooine,” he said, his voice even and overly disinterested. “Where are we going?”

“Mos Espa,” Han said as he stood up and brushed around Luke.

“Mos Espa?” Leia asked, following him, everyone taking their usual seats as Chewbacca took them out of hyperspace. “What’s in Mos Espa?”

“The fuel supply we’re after.”

***

_Fifteen years earlier_

While foolish to call it home, Qi’ra had started calling the bolthole she shared with Han home. They both had bunks at Lady Proxima’s, but they were of age now. Maybe they couldn’t quite survive without the White Worms, but they could manage some private space.

Their bolthole, situated off an alley down Coronet’s main thoroughfare, had enough room for a bed and a table. The refresher and kitchenette consisted of stolen parts, held together with glue and the Force. It wasn’t much, but it was theirs.

Qi’ra pulled their clothes storage out from under the bed and changed into Han’s favorite outfit: barefoot in nothing but one of his linen shirts.

He walked in as she tested their latest brew from the still—a gin that could grow hair on even the toughest rodian. She choked and waved at him. “I think it’s ready.”

Han locked the door, closing the distance between them. His fingertips traced up her thigh, but he said nothing else about her outfit; that touch told her everything anyway. “We’ll bottle up the gin tomorrow. I bet Croyden will be interested.” His hand brushed the hair off her neck, and his lips pressed to her skin just above her shoulders. “How was your day?”

“Uneventful. Cased the museum for that big job Proxima wants me to lead next week. Absolutely nothing interesting happened all day.”

“It’s a museum, Qi. Pretty hard for something to be interesting.” His fingers found her sides while his lips continued their trail over her neck. When he pressed his hands against her hips and slid his fingers forward in _just_ the right direction, it set her body on fire. She couldn’t have moved if she wanted to.

That was all it took. Their conversation about casing a museum was over. In fact, for the next several minutes, neither of them said much of anything while they took each other to bed.

Urgency gone, Qi’ra curled against Han, huddled close against the night chill. They hadn’t successfully stolen a heating coil that didn’t catch fire when attached to their power generator. That meant most nights included heavy cuddling, especially since Han rarely let them climb into bed clothed.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Han said, shifting enough that Qi’ra had to lift her head from his shoulder. He reached over the side for his jacket and pulled out two dice, gold plated and connected by a chain. “What do you think?”

Qi’ra sat up and scooted into the pillows, lifting them out of his hand. “I think they’re useless.”

“What? No, no. The chain disconnects. See?” He reached over and pressed a tiny lever embedded into the chain to detach the dice. “They’re my lucky dice. I thought they deserved some special treatment.”

Qi’ra raised an eyebrow. “You’d better be glad you brought me to bed before showing me these.” She shifted and gave him her bare back.

“Qi’ra.” He spooned her, a wonderful position on cold nights like this, and dangled the dice in front of her. They shined, even in the faint moonlight. “These lucky dice got us this place, got multiple gangs off our tail, and someday they’re going to get me—us—a ship.”

The ultimate dream: a ship, the freedom to leave, and real lives.

Han swayed the dice. “When we get a ship, I’m hanging them in there, because we’ll know our luck has changed. We’ll know we’re finally doing what we were born to do.”

Qi’ra twisted around enough to see him. “You’re an idealist.”

“And you’re a realist. That’s why we need each other. That’s why we work.”

And these moments told her why she was crazy about Han. He was a dreamer, He saw best case scenarios. He wasn’t afraid. Her lips met his, and she slid against him in a clear sign that their fun was not done for the night. “Yes, it is. I can’t wait until I see those dice hanging in their own cockpit.”

“That will be a great day, for both of us.” And then Han shifted in such a way to tell Qi’ra they were _definitely_ not done with their evening fun.

***

After Maul’s death, Qi’ra had hoped to keep Crimson Dawn alive. Unfortunately, without the mysterious man behind the curtain, she couldn’t keep proper control over the cells. As it fell apart, she fell into old habits of contraband and black market trade. It wasn’t so bad, especially now that the Rebellion was stronger and needed supplies from non-Imperial channels.

The slave quarters in Mos Espa proved a decent base of operations. The homes were comfortable, and mostly empty. Only a handful of local tradesmen still had slaves, leaving Qi’ra welcome to take one apartment to live in and another for supplies.

Today’s buyer was codenamed Hotshot. The asking price was typical of the Rebellion (lower than most). She could name any number of Rebels who thought themselves special enough to be a hotshot. She just hoped the biggest hotshot she knew hadn’t decided to use it.

She hadn’t seen Han in over ten years, had gone out of her way to avoid him. She’d imagined seeing him hundreds, even thousands of times. Half the time, he gave her a look of pity. The other half the time, he was hoping looks could kill.

Her doorbell rang and she got up to answer, interrupting a blond young man mid-sentence. “—and I’m telling you, that toydarian looked at me funny.”

“Are you sure it was a funny look, or just a funny-looking face?”

Qi’ra knew his voice before she could focus on him in the afternoon sun. The swagger was still there. And the coat, even in Tatooine heat. “Hello, Hotshot,” she said to Han, ignoring the man closer to her. “I see you brought friends.”

Chewbacca stepped up behind Han, blocking the sun and greeting her with a snarl. He leaned in to Han and grumbled something in his ear, to which he responded, “No, I didn’t know. I suspected, but—”

“Hotshot,” Qi’ra interrupted. Now that Chewbacca’s bulky figure blocked the sun glare, she could see the others with Han. The kid who had rung the doorbell looked like he'd walked off a farm. The woman was clearly a politician; her posture betrayed her. “Do you still want to do business?”

“Yeah,” Han said as he stepped forward, filling the doorway.

The woman joined him, close enough to show they were familiar but not close enough to imply there was anything else going on. “I think we’d like to see the supplies first.”

Qi’ra nodded and moved to allow them in. “They’re in the main storage room. Come on in and turn to your left. Han, you first.”

Chewbacca wasn’t having that. He brushed his way around everyone, snorted a loud huff at Qi’ra, and took the lead.

Han watched his retreating back before his eyes locked onto Qi’ra’s. “I hope it’s not a problem if Chewie goes first, Qi.”

“It’s not. And I promise, no traps.” Han seemed content with that answer, threw her a salute, and followed the wookiee. The boy fixed her with a curious frown, but otherwise continued after Han.

The politician stayed back, arms folded. “How long have you known Han?”

“Most of my life.”

She paused, looking down the corridor to the supply room. “Has he always been this arrogant and overconfident?”

Qi’ra couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, motioning for them to join the others. “Always. You know, he once tried to pass a _rock_ as a thermal detonator? He made his own blasted clicking noise and thought it was sufficient.”

“He just shared that story today. Threw the rock and broke a window, didn’t he?”

“He sure did. That kicked off the greatest chase we ever had.”

The woman looked Qi’ra over, as simply walking gait and posture could teach her everything. “You were his partner, weren’t you?” the woman asked. Qi’ra couldn’t bring herself to answer out loud, so she simply nodded. “Huh. And what ended your partnership?”

They had entered the storage room now, the rest of the party privy to the conversation. Han had heard that last question, and he locked another gaze with her. She turned to face the woman and replied, “We thought we wanted the same thing, but it turns out he’s the better hero and I’m the better villain. Now, how about we talk your supplies, hmn?”

***

Han made sure the supplies—checked twice for wires and explosives—were ready to go before sending everyone else back to the _Falcon_ with the crates while he squared up the payment with Qi’ra. He’d done his best to treat her just like any other supply source. When he passed the credits from his hand to hers, he also tried to ignore the immediate spark of recognition that ran up his arm. “Well,” Qi’ra said, counting her money. “You joined the Rebels after all.”

“Temporary gig, nothing permanent.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Han. You were born for this.” She surprised him by planing a solid and purposeful kiss on his lips. He couldn’t resist, his arm coming around her immediately. He let his mind wander back fifteen years to a shared bolthole, and hundreds of shared dreams. She had, at one time, been his everything. Twelve years ago, he still believed that.

Now, the kiss felt like a memory. When he pulled back, he realized he felt nothing in it, or at least nothing in the present. He had put her behind him. “You don’t know me anymore, Qi’ra. You don’t know what I was born for.”

She smiled and shrugged. “Whatever you say, Han Solo.”

He said his good-byes and offered her his best indifferent hug. Leia waited for him at the corner of the slave quarters. As he reached her, he gave her a testy, “What?”

“Do you agree with what she said?”

“Do I agree with what exactly?”

“That she’s the villain and you’re the hero?”

Han sighed and reached forward to push the supply crate. “No. She didn’t choose to be a villain. Things could’ve been different.”

Leia reached forward and halted the crate before turning to him. “Do you think you could’ve made her life different?”

“I think, princess, it’s time to drop the subject of our supplier, don’t you? We have what we came for. Now we focus on getting back to base.”

The kiss had reawakened memories, but nothing more. In that moment, seeing Leia’s surprised reaction, he decided it was time to completely leave Qi’ra in the past. Qi’ra had faded to a memory, a fond collection of flashbacks, and this time, he knew he had to keep her there.

**Author's Note:**

> The actual content for this story was inspired by a Twitter post made my Jon Kasdan about the writing process for Solo, in particular #4: https://twitter.com/JonKasdan/status/1040529501870944256.


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